Normal
by Shauds02
Summary: Jason's just trying to figure out his water bill, and Stephs baking in (making a mess of) his kitchen, when he realizes how normal this kind of normality has become, and that terrifies him. People like him aren't supposed to HAVE normal and that means it can only ever be taken away from him doesn't it?


**_Prompt fic from an anon on tumblr. It should be up there too in a couple of hours._** ** _xxx_**

Jason's sitting around his apartment, chewing on a pen as he tries to focus over the noise from his kitchen on the water bill that shouldn't be ' _this_ ' high. He doesn't have time to take the kind of showers these numbers are suggesting, so either there's a leak somewhere and he'll have to fix it, or he's being scammed by the landlord. Not that Jason's strapped for cash, he just doesn't like the idea of some asshole making his tenants pay more than their places are worth. He's been in that situation too much in the past, to let it slide now.

There's a whirring from the kitchen, but Jason resolutely does ' _not_ ' turn his head to see what she's doing to cause that sound. Making muffins – low GI, whole grain and one hundred percent Alfred approved in him and Steph's latest attempt at weaning Jason off his junkfood ' _addiction_ ' – should not be that loud. Ignorance is bliss after all.

To be sure, he's gotten his hands on the monthly payments of the other tenants, his computer skills aren't what they used to be but he does an okay job of it, and everything else seems to match up. The other bill's are what he thinks they're suppose to be, but he keeps trying to dig deeper because he just really doesn't want to have to scour his place for the leak.

Unless… Jason frowns, hums softly and bites down on his pen, he hasn't heard Stephanie complain about the water pressure at her apartment in weeks, and she ' _loves_ ' long showers after patrol. She hasn't been spending ' _that'_ much time at his place, right?

"Jaaason." Steph's right in front of him, cake batter smeared all over the right side of her face some of it having even gotten in the hair she'd taken the time to tie back before she started cooking. There's some on the once white apron too, but he doesn't mind that part so much, because it's been hopelessly stained since at least half a dozen visits ago. He'll bet his kitchen isn't faring any better.

"Yeah?" He asks, removing the pen from between his lips, eyes roaming over her face, eyes pausing on the cake batter at the corner of her mouth, has the sudden idea to clean it off with his own, but stamps down on the thought violently, he's busy, has to focus. "Kinda busy here Sunshine, what is it?"

"I can't reach the chocolate chips your stupidly tall ass put on the top shelf." She says, lips curved in a dangerous frown.

Jason throws up his hands, rolls his eyes as he shoves the sheets if paper off his lap, and stands. "Not my fault you're so short." With a grin, he looks over his shoulder at her. "We're gonna have to get you a step ladder."

"Asshole." She stomps past him and back to the very, very messy workstation. "Just get the chocolate before I decide you don't get any of these."

"Wait, wait." He waves his arms and makes a point of bending over way more than he needs to when he talks to her. "We'll call it the ' _Steph'_ ladder and keep it folded under the sink."

She makes a low growling noise in the back of her throat, but the little twitches at her jaw give away that she's struggling to hold her deadpan expression. "Only if we can put hazard signs on all the doorframes for your stupid head."

Jason's about to make a reply about it being his apartment, and how he can buy what he wants when his eyes catch on the sweater draped over the back of one of his chairs. Then drifts back over to her, strands of hair that had escaped the ties falling over her shoulder as she skims over the pages of a recipe book. She's so at home here, and he's spent two hours going over his utility bills and, it's so normal, so mundane. When had his happened?

He's never stayed at a place long enough to have a full months bill to look through. This is just another of his safehouses, not even his best or most comfortable one, just a studio apartment on the border of the Coventry. Nothing special and yet he's been here long enough for her stuff to start accumulating, the sweater she'd forgotten one rainy day still hanging over the back of his chair, her vanilla scented shampoo in his shower, socks and shirts and various other odds and ends stuffed into his drawers.

Even his own things have begun migrating over to her place, a scarf there a hoody – that he never got back – there. He doesn't even know if the one she was wearing now had once been his. And he finds he doesn't mind. Not even when his 'family' shows up unexpectedly at his door because they ' _know_ ' they'll find him here.

It's so normal, so, so quiet and peaceful, even his nights cleaning up the city have become less brutal and he can't for the second life of him figure out when it all started. It's not him, not who he decided to be when he started his crusade. Even if he wants it, people like him, that have done the things he has, have hands bloody as his, shouldn't get this, shouldn't have this kind of peace.

Shouldn't have something like _'her'_

Stifling. That's the word he's looking for; it's suffocating him, the walls of his cozy apartment closing in, trapping him in this - this, whatever it is he's found with her. It's mellowed him out, made him soft and unfocused.

How long will it last, how long before things break down and either he leaves, or she does, and this becomes just another in the long line of things he's fucked up? He could always leave now, he thinks; preserve things as they are in his memory, the light from the window, bouncing off her hair, the glint in her eyes, the curve of her lips. He'd, rather mourn another 'what could have been' than something else he's ruined.

She's frowning at him now, her brows draw against the deep, worried line that seperates them. She's speaking, arms folded stiffly while he's standing like an idiot with his hand frozen halfway to the bag of chocolate chips on the shelf she couldn't reach.

"Hey – are you listening to me?" She asks, the bite she's trying for absent in her voice.

"What?" He gets the bag of chocolate and opens it up, scoops out a handful of the chips and shoves them into his mouth. "I can't hear you from down there."

"I AM NOT ' _THAT_ ' SHORT, YOU JERK!" She shouts loud enough that it hurts his ears, so much of the tension melts out of her and she balls her hands into fist as though she'd about to strike out at him, He pretends he doesn't see them shaking.

Jason laughs, leans in close to her, close enough that he can almost taste the batter still on the edge of her mouth and she goes quiet, her eyes fixed on his, almost magnetic in the way they pull him closer still.

"Oh, I can hear you now." His hands slip run over her shoulders, round her waist, one to cup her head and the other resting on her hip. She grips the fabric at the back of his shirt and she closes the rest of the distance. Their lips meet and he kisses away the batter while she gets a lingering taste of the chocolate he's just eaten. It almost hurts, how deeply she's digging her fingertips into his back, they don't pull away until the need for air 'forces' them to. "And yes, you really are."

"Ass." She tugs sharply on his hair in retaliation, he lets out a pained hiss and she uses her grip to pull him in for another kiss, drink in the sound as though the pain's come along with it, and he does the same for her. That his time with her could be finite, cut short at any moment only makes him hurry to deepen the kiss, pull her closer and feel the warmth of her body pressing against his. He knows that no matter what's bound to happen in the future, he can't let her go, can't be the one to leave her. And so what if that scares him, terrifies him down to his bones? For her, for moments like this, he can handle it; can deal with any pain that comes along down the line.

They don't get around to finishing the muffins untill hours have passed.

 ** _xxx_**

 ** _My tumblr is shaudswrites.tumblr just add a .com and hit me up if you want to make a request._**


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